


Alone

by evening_spirit



Series: Unrelated Supernatural short stories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, memories of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_spirit/pseuds/evening_spirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t remember Hell, oh no. Coda to "Metamorphosis"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Disclaimer:** The characters and the universe of 'Supernatural' do not belong to me.

***

 **Alone**

***

It comes in gasps. Bursts of pain filled screams. A moment, a blink of an eye, a dream, but Dean feels his chest rip open with paralyzing fear. A shriek chokes at his throat like ice. Ice so cold it burns.

“What were you dreaming about?” Castiel asked, as if he knew, or maybe didn’t know.

“What was Hell like?” Sam asked, all compassionate, then.

“I don’t remember. Must have blocked it out.”

Why doesn’t he remember? Is that the angel protecting him, or his own mind? If the latter, is his mind strong enough to withhold the assault of the memories much longer? How much longer?

Dean forgets.

He woke up, traveled all the way to thirty something years ago, returned and was told that his brother betrayed him. He doesn’t want to take it personal, tries to think about the big picture, Yellow Eyes’ End-Game, God’s plans and Angels, but all it comes down to -- is that Sammy betrayed him. How silly is that?

“You weren’t using your powers?”

“It was practically your dying wish!”

Sam lied.

“You have to stop him, or else we will.”

Dean wants to stop Sam. He drives around town thinking of how and what to say, and his mind is blank. The echo of fear creeps in his stomach and he knows that had he tried, he would feel it. Real fear, nothing like it!

He doesn’t want to remember Hell.

When he stops outside the motel, he thinks about all Cas had said. That Sam is following the path laid out in front of him by Yellow Eyes, that he’s using demonic powers to get rid of demons and God only knows what may come out of it. Or -- in fact -- not even God knows. Yellow Eyes knew. Him and, oh-- Ruby! 

Yes, Ruby knows it too, the bitch.

How could Sam fall for her? The rage is back, so fierce Dean can’t remember ever feeling like that before, well, maybe in those memories he doesn’t have. The echo of ice-choking terror. And suddenly Dean doesn’t want to be near Sam, because he feels he could kill him for that betrayal. Because he does take it personal, damn it! Because it’s all about him giving up the last hope of being saved from Hell -- the hope that meant Sam using the powers to kill Lilith. And Dean would never allow Sam to use the powers. But as it turned out -- whatever he’d chose to do, he’d do wrong.

Ruby was right there, waiting.

So go ahead Sam, you and Ruby do just fine!

Except not; Sam begs forgiveness, he tries to explain himself and Dean hits him for it. Twice. So much pain. But he can handle it, he will, for his brother, because he did endure more. So much more he doesn’t even know, himself.

***

They drive to Missouri and Dean is glad they drive at night, because he doesn’t have to dream. He tells Sam everything, because he doesn’t want secrets between them. No more secrets, that’s his new mantra, so he even admits that their grandparents’ names were Samuel and Deanna. And Sam doesn’t tease him about it. He asks about Mom, and it hurts to remember how funny and smart she was. How hopeful.

The illusion of brotherly understanding is shattered when Sam gets all bitter and wonders for what-- “All family murdered, and for what? So Yellow Eyes could get in my nursery and bleed in my mouth?”

That startles Dean. He thinks; tries to remember what he said and what he didn’t say. He wasn’t attempting to deliberately hold out anything on Sam, he’s sure of it. Or was he? Did he try to conceal some of the things that Yellow Eyes told him in order to protect his brother? Does that even matter? He knows, for a fact, that he never said anything about demon blood.

“You knew about that?”

“Yeah,” Sam’s reluctant, but says it. “For about a year.”

That’s a new one! Or not new, just another concealed truth.

“Whatever. You don’t wanna tell me you don’t have to; it’s fine.”

“Dean--”

And then silence. Is that all that’s left between them? Lies and silence. Dean remembers -- the echo of loneliness one can’t experience on earth. He doesn’t feel it, it’s not there. Sam is next to him and distant as they are, they are still together. Dean remembers -- clearly -- their closeness, their love, like it was yesterday. Three weeks ago. But he knows these were months for Sam.

***

They learn what’s out of the ordinary about Jack; they meet up with Travis, and then--

“Crash for a moment boys, you both look exhausted.”

Dean is grateful for that, careless, because he forgot. And when he closes his eyes it’s back, it’s all back, everything clear and open like a cut through the intestines, the scream burning in a throat that does not exist, because it’s the very soul screaming, crying for help, but there’s no help, no hope, no hope! No one there, alone. Alone!  _Alone!_  And he knows he’s been down there for years or more, more than time, eternal without beginning and without end, and in truth he’s still there, because there’s no change where there’s no time, this is just a blink of an eye of an angel that he’s out here, they have no idea . . .

When he wakes up the memories curl up inside, leaving only the echo, the imprint of light on the back of his eyelids, and Dean is surprised the whole world doesn’t stand at his bedside, hovering above him with fright, because he was screaming so loud. But it was his soul screaming, not his body, so why would anyone notice? He doesn’t even notice himself, he refuses to.

Sam is gone. “Research,” Travis shrugs, nor quite understanding, and then explains to Dean how to kill a rugaru. With fire. Is there fire in Hell? Everybody says there is, but Dean doesn’t remember the details, it’s all just a general fear and pain and scream and  _Alone!_  And he doesn’t remember that either, not really.

When Sam returns he’s adamant about not killing Jack, because maybe --  _maybe!_  -- he will not turn evil. And while part of Dean really wants to understand that, Sam’s whole attitude starts to get on his nerves. Sam even refuses to see what’s right in front of him: that he’s comparing himself to Jack.

“You sure your emotions aren’t getting in the way here?” Dean asks, and Sam looks at him incredulously.

Asks, “What are you talking about?” like he doesn’t know. And when Dean lays it clear in front of him, -- nice dude, but has something evil inside him, -- all Sam can say to it, is: “Stop the car!” And backs it up with, “Stop the car, or I will!” Like Castiel.

Dean wonders if Sam is aware that he’s echoing the angel, but he stops. Apparently he’s easy to bend if he’s blackmailed like this.

Sam storms out of the car, slamming the door hard. He screams out the answers, “I’ve been lying to you, because you look at me like I’m a freak!”

Dean tries to deflect; he does not, he really does not, never did. Sam’s the best thing that ever happened to him, he’d do everything for his brother. He did everything! But Sam doesn’t even let him say, “I do not.”

“Or even worse,” he yells. “Like I’m an idiot, like I don’t know the difference between right and wrong.”

And Dean doesn’t know any more. Does Sam know the difference? “You’ve been kinda’ strolling the dark road lately!”

“You have no idea what I’m going through.” Sam shots back. “None.”

“Then enlighten me!” Dean screams before that little pang in him that says ‘and what about me, what about what I’m going through?’ will grow and make him talk; make him remember what he forgot.

Sam yaps about demon blood, the disease that cannot be ripped out, and Dean wonders what he’s even doing there. He wasn’t chosen by the Yellow Eyes to fulfill some evil plans. He has no excuse, and nothing to cling to. 

“I’m just trying to take this--” Sam’s voice falters. “This curse-- and make something good out of it.” And Dean has a flash. How can he compare those two experiences? He realizes he really doesn’t have a clue about what Sam’s going through and how hard he struggles to keep things on the right side of that very thin line. What could even an angel know about it? How dare Castiel tell him to stop Sam, when Sam isn’t doing anything wrong! Or at least doesn’t intend to do something wrong--

They go talk to the guy. To Jack.

***

And they fail. And then everything fails and Jack turns, and perhaps he would have turned anyway, or perhaps it’s Travis’s fault; who are they to say what would happen if-- Sam kills Jack, burns him down. And it’s the right thing. It’s supposed to be the right thing.

But Sam doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s a first that Sam doesn’t want to talk and Dean does. He misses talking to Sam, longs for it, and it’s an almost physical ache. Because when they don’t talk, when they sit in silence it’s almost as if he was  _Alone_ , the echo of real loneliness, the one that can’t be experienced on earth. So he tries.

“What? You don’t want to talk? You?” It feels like begging, almost.

“There’s nothing more to say!” Sam pushes him away. “I can’t keep explaining myself to you, I can’t make you understand.”

“Why don’t you try?”

“I can’t. Because this thing, this-- this blood-- it’s not in you the way it’s in me.” Another thing separating them. “It’s just something I gotta deal with.”

He means he’s gotta deal with it alone, but he has no idea what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know what _Alone_ means. Dean says it, as much of it as he dares. Two words, because he can’t say more, no one would understand.

“Not alone.”

***  
.end


End file.
